


now that i have you, i dont want to be alone

by tentacoolTherapist (orphan_account)



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author Projecting onto Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), BAMF Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), BAMF Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Domestic Fluff, Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Eventual Fluff, Feral TommyInnit (Video Blogging RFP), Goat Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Hybrid Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Piglin Hybrid Wilbur Soot, Protective Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Protective TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Raccoon Hybrid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo Has Panic Attacks (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo Has a Tail (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Has ADHD (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo Has ADHD (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo Has Horns, TommyInnit Has ADHD (Video Blogging RPF), Touch-Starved, but this has to be different, look canon sucks so i usually do what i want, mans is a raccoon what the fuck else did you expect, redemption arc for phils fatherly abilities ig??, this will probably be the most in character thing i write :l
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29166369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tentacoolTherapist
Summary: “Well, Tommy, where’s Tubbo? I’m assuming he’s going to be worried about you?”Tommy’s tail puffs out even more, posture taking on a defensive air. “I’m not telling you. You can turn me in, bitch, but you’re not getting to Tubbo.” He crosses his arms in front of himself stubbornly, as if to prove a point.Phil sighs, annoyed, and takes a seat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands.or; the raccooninnit story that ive been craving for MONTHS
Relationships: Mentioned Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF) - Relationship, No Romantic Relationship(s), Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & Tommyinnit & Phil Watson & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 805





	now that i have you, i dont want to be alone

**Author's Note:**

> yes this a reupload
> 
> possible tw/cw for malnourishment, talk of past child neglect and abuse in later chapters, and talk of ed in later chapters, forcibly stopped stimming in later chapters, and somewhat graphic descriptions of wounds in later chapters

Had he been found there on any other day, perhaps on one that Techno had not been in such an already cheerful mood, he may have gotten himself turned away to the authorities. But a man with a bleeding heart, no matter how much he handled it with distaste, would forever be a man with a bleeding heart. Compassion towards those in need to no end, as Phil would say.

A thieving little bastard, as Techno would say. And he did. Very loudly, at that. 

Owlishly wide eyes, a piercing brown so dark he’d nearly mistaken them to be black upon first glance, looked up to meet his own. The rustingling stopped, as well as all movements coming from the boy. His hands, previously digging though the composter Techno had just filled not even a few hours ago, were now posed defensively in front of him. 

His gaze never wavered, and Techno felt as though the tension between the two of them was thick enough to cut with a knife. The silence carried on, persistent and biting. It was quiet for a moment longer, and then it wasn’t.

“Hey! Bitch! What’d’ya think you’re looking at?”

For such a small kid, Techno would guess him to be twelve at best, he sure had a lot of bravado. The audacity required to call Technoblade, of all people, a bitch while sorting through the trash sat on  _ his _ property was nearly unfathomable to the piglin hybrid. 

He stepped forward, without a word, the kid flinching so violently Techno thought he might fall from the ledge he’d perched himself on top of. He made no signs of leaving though, so the teen persisted. Scruffing him by the collar of his shirt was easy as it hung loose enough around his shoulders, tattered to bits and clearly worn well past the time it had needed throwing out, that he’d been able to bunch the fabric into his fist without a problem. 

The short travel to the door of Phil’s home wasn’t all that difficult until the kid realised what was happening. As soon as he’d felt the grip that Techno had upon his shirt he took to flailing his limbs wildly, desperate for a way out. The kid was trying his best and failing his hardest to get away from the older boy’s grasp. 

His efforts turned out fruitless, Techno managed to get him through the door rather easily, all things considered. The piglin hybrid managed it ather easily, really, releasing his grip on his shirt as the door clicked shut behind him. The kid before him fell to the ground with a thud. 

“Oi! Dickhead! Let me out of here, right now you pink bastard!”

Techno laughed halfheartedly and pulled out his communicator to send a quick message to Phil. 

**technoblade:** new kid. come home

**ph1lza:** ??

**technoblade:** in kitchen

**ph1lza:** What. Why is there a child in my fucking kitchen Techno

Said child was currently staring longingly beyond Techno at the door just beyond him, tail angrily puffed out behind him. The piglin hybrid just backed up against the door, ensuring the child in front of him had no means of escaping. Finally given a moment to fully observe the kid’s appearance, he was scrawny. And, no, Techno did  _ not _ care about the child before him, he did  _ not _ feel sympathy for him, he just related a bit. He’d been in the same situation just a handful of years ago, taking him in was really the least he could do. Besides, he just wanted to make sure his potatoes wouldn’t be ransacked again. 

The kid before him was small, but he towered. He was too scrawny for a somebody his age, surely no older than twelve. Even for a boy of his stature, that being lanky as hell, he was just so skinny. If it weren’t for the baby fat still clinging to his face, Techno might have thought him to be nearly his own or Wilbur’s age. His body was littered with scratches and scabs, a deep cut near his ankle that was surely infected.

He’s not sure if the scoff he lets out is involuntary or not. Whoever this kid’s parents are have done a piss poor job raising him. 

Two pairs of boots softly make their way down to the kitchen. A voice lofting down from where his brother stands at the top of the staircase, lured out of his room by the commotion, distracts Techno from his thoughts. 

Wilbur looks at the child, looks at Techno, and then back to the child. “Phil’s going to like you.”

His hand adjusts on the railing as walks down further for a better look. Wilbur descends the staircase slowly, trench coat flaccid behind him. Phil follows, a few steps behind. 

No one talks for a moment. Wilbur clears his throat, which only puts the kid on edge.

The kid huffs, annoyance present in his demeanor. “So you brought out the big men just for me? Well,” he locks eyes with Phil, voice coated in venom, “If you’re going to kill me you might as well just go on and get it over with. If not, I got better shit to do than mope around here so I’d really like it if you told the pink fuck to quit holding me captive.”

Techno watches as Phil’s jaw clenches, expectant and uneager to hear Techno’s response. The piglin hybrid continues to rile the boy up anyway. He can deal with Phil’s annoyance later.

“If I were goin’ to kill you, I’d have done it ten minutes ago when I found your grubby little paws diggin’ through my compost for fruit.”

He watches as the boy, trying to be discreet, pats his jean pocket. When he finds it nearly empty his eyes light up with a new fire. There goes trying to calm the brat down. 

“I don’t think you would have,” the blond challenges, trying his best to stand impossibly taller, “I think that you are a pussy.”

Techno lets his hand fall to the hilt of his sword, resting patiently in the sheath on his hip. The kid locks eyes with it, backtracking immediately. Fear tactics were apparently going to be very effective, Techno takes note of rather dully. 

When the kid finds it in himself to speak again, his voice is fluttery, somewhat distant compared to the screeching from before. “Hey! I- I’ve got a wife and kids at home, you can’t kill me! It’d be rude! Woah, listen! Hear me out! I’ve got seven tiny, little mouths to feed! You’d be orphaning them! Think about how cruel that’d be. Immoral, even-” His eyes widen when Techno takes another step forward. “Hey! Back up, get the fuck away from me with that long fucking knife you dickhead-”

“Tell me what you were doing in my compost, and I’ll consider letting you keep that tail attached to your person.”

Techno doesn’t need the kid’s answer, it was obvious enough. The hybrid wasn’t just scrawny, but weak as well. He had hardly been capable of putting up a fight when Techno brought him inside. But hey, if he’s going to have to share Phil’s attention with yet another kid, he may as well have some fun with it. 

“I was getting food for...” He seems to take a moment to consider his options. The kid appears to make a decision, shoulders slumping in defeat. “For Tubbo,” he laughs, though it's bittersweet, “because he’s a pussy. Too scared of getting caught to get it himself.”

Phil nods from the corner and gestures Wilbur upstairs. A silent conversation passes between the two, briefly. Whatever it is Phil managed to communicate, Wilbur obliges, taking off. 

Phil looks the boy up and down, deciding immediately that he needs help. He takes his time making his way to the kid, though not near as menacingly as Techno had earlier. He approached slowly, cautiously, as one might advance toward a frightened animal. He stops just a few feet away from him, so as not to make the boy feel boxed in or trapped. His gaze softens when he speaks to him, losing its calculation edge. 

“What’s your name?”

The boy hesitates for a few moments. Techno can see the way the fight in the kid’s eyes drains, watches as his shoulders sag further, can see the spark in him flicker and die as he makes eye contact with Phil, the way his small frame notably tenses. The presence of an adult visibly makes the child much more uncomfortable. 

“...It’s Tommy.”

“Well, Tommy, where’s Tubbo? I’m assuming he’s going to be worried about you?”

Tommy’s tail puffs out even more, posture taking on a defensive air. “I’m not telling you. You can turn me in, bitch, but you’re not getting to Tubbo.” He crosses his arms in front of himself stubbornly, as if to prove a point. 

Phil sighs, annoyed, and takes a seat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands.

“We don’t want to hurt you, Tommy.”

“We aren’t going to hurt you,” he repeats, quietly. 

“We aren’t going to hurt you,” it becomes a mantra, almost. Though Techno’s not sure who it's meant to calm.

They’re not going to hurt him. He can tell it's not believed, though. That it goes through one ear and out the other. Phil had been through so much with Wilbur and Techno, and he sees them in the kid. He’s got Techno’s stubbornness, his utter refusal of help, and Wilbur’s standoffish attitude. He can only hope that, like his kids, he opens up and accepts the help being offered to him. 

He’s got help this time at least, he notes, as Wilbur treads lightly down the stairs with full arms and a frown decorating his face. He seems to be of the same opinion of the kid as Techno; able to accept it would be rude to turn the boy away, but still not happy with the circumstances. He has with him a change of clothes for the boy, pajamas that no longer fit, gauze, antibiotics, water, and food. He wishes he could blame the kid, turn him away with no remorse, but he can’t. He’d been in the same position once, though Phil had had far less grey hairs back then. 

Wilbur makes his way off the last step. Techno sees the way he gives the boy a once over, takes in his defensive body language, and treads even lighter. Wilbur sets the materials he carried down with him onto the table, sans an apple. 

Phil beckons the teen closer to his seat, pulling him down to face level by his scarf, to whisper into the teen’s ear. Wilbur doesn’t reply, just sighs halfheartedly and holds the fruit out to the boy. He doesn’t take it, just glances between it, Wilbur, and Techno. Eventually, Wilbur follows his gaze to find Techno’s hand still at rest on the hilt of his sword. Wilbur comes to the conclusion that, as he surely does not care about the psychological or emotional well being of the child before him, the wild gesturing his free hand takes to doing must be entirely involuntary.

Techno grunts and lets his hand fall down to his side, his muscles no longer tenses and on the verge of attack. Wilbur decides then and there, eyes locked with Techno’s, that if anyone is going to fuck with the kid, its sure as hell not going to be Technoblade. 

Tommy’s gaze continues to shift around the room, between the fruit and the family awaiting his reaction. The seconds feel like hours as time ticks by. 

Eventually, ever so hesitantly, a dully clawed hand reaches out and slowly closes around the fruit. 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is super appreciated!!! if i should tag or tw/cw anything else or if you notice a spelling error please lmk! thank you for reading! :)
> 
> also edit as of feb 13th im discontuniun this for now!! im sorry but the plot moves on way too fucking fast for me to write anything other than oneshots that are coherent n that i am also happy with!!


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